


it's no better to be safe than sorry

by wearealltalesintheend



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 04 Finale, badly thought out plans, eliot and julia's adventure in the Underworld, fuck the finale i say, let quentin and eliot reunite, stop burying your gays it's 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 16:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18553816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: Penny, in true Penny form, rolls his eyes, stepping aside to impatiently motion them out of the elevator and into a shockingly white room. “Calm down, you guys don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine down here,” he hands them two glasses of what turns out to be an also shockingly good Scotch. “You’re here for Quentin, right?”“Yeah,” Julia nods, eyeing his suit and tie suspiciously, “are you going to try and stop us?”It brings a burst of laugh out of Penny. “God, no. Please, take him with you,” he shakes his head, “do you have any idea how much trouble he’s causing here?”And that brings an almost-smile out of Eliot, because yes, that does sound like him. “Please, do tell.”*or, first, Eliot grieves. Then, Julia finds a hare-brained solution that's right up their alley. After that, a lot of talking happens.Alternatively titled, Eliot and Julia's adventure in the Underworld.





	it's no better to be safe than sorry

**Author's Note:**

> LOOK, I'm still so mad and so sad at the finale, I can't put into the words how disappointed I am and how much it has affected me these last few days. This is how I coped. 
> 
> Hope it can bring closure to other people as well. <3

“Are you going to be okay?” 

 

Margo asks because she’s off to the library– the one in Brakebills, lower case, less fascist, less likely to stab them in the back– and Eliot has probably been staring out the window for too long now. It’s been three weeks since Fillory, and it’s been three weeks since Eliot woke up, and it’s been three weeks since– it’s been three weeks, and she’s given up on asking him to join her, on dragging him with her, on leaving her eyeball on the desk, staring at him, daring him to do something stupid.

 

“Of course,” Eliot says, because yeah, he’s been staring out the window for too long now and she needs an answer and he can’t drink while he’s on pain medication, he knows that. The orange bottle is on her coat’s pocket or maybe on her bedroom and she’ll either be back on time to hand him the pills or send Penny 23 to dutifully stand in her place. “Call me if you find something. I’ll look into some books.”

 

That’s a lie, a well practiced one that falls off his tongue with ease. It’s the one that convinces Penny to give him an extra pill because today,  _ oh dear, the stitches are hurting to breathe.  _ What’s the point of getting prescription Vicodin if he can’t even get high while he’s at it.  

 

“El,” her forehead creases, eyebrows knitting together, and Eliot reaches for her, drawing her into a hug because Margo has a whole Kingdom to worry about, she shouldn’t add Eliot to the list. There’s been enough worrying over him. There’s been– Eliot’s fine, or fine enough at least. He wishes he were a better person, a stronger person, the kind that would follow her to the library and help find a way to go back to Fillory in the right time and stop this dethroning business, but while Fillory as a land is alright for him to think, the books–  _ Fillory and Further, El, look, the answers have to be here somewhere, we just have to look–  _ the books are off limits for him.

 

“Go, Bambi,” he presses a kiss to her hair, and pulls back, smiling the closest thing to a smile, “I’ll be fine.”

 

She nods, straightening up and visibly pulling herself together. A warrior queen, once again.  _ High King Margo, the Destroyer,  _ he thinks fondly and watches her walk out of the cottage, head held high.

 

*

 

The thing about grief is that Eliot is no stranger to it, and yet, it still catches him off guard, even after he mourned enough times, enough things in his Happy Place. How ironically fitting it is that here Eliot is again, in the Physical Cottage, grieving for things he can’t fix and opportunities he can’t change. 

 

“Why did you do it, Q?” He asks the ceiling of his bedroom, “did you want to be a hero? Did you think it would be okay?”

 

Predictably, he gets no answer, except for the low chatter downstairs and the birds chirping outside.

 

“It’s not. Okay, I mean,” Eliot continues, imagining the nervous way Quentin would fidget, looking away from Eliot and hiding behind his hair. “Didn’t Margo warn you, Q? Because that was one dumb decision and–” his voice breaks, and it would be embarrassing if there wasn’t already a shit load of things broken with Eliot, “no one likes a dead moron, Q.”

 

Fleetingly, Eliot thinks of Quentin and Alice’s disastrous seance spell from their first year, so, so long ago, a lifetime ago. He wonders idly who might come through this time, with no more Beast to terrorize them, and he’s in the process of letting it slide off the hazy static floating around his mind when there’s a knock on his door.

 

Quick, direct, but still gentle. Julia, then.

 

He waits in silence while she decides if she truly wants to come in, not particularly feeling like talking with her. Nothing personal, truthfully, it’s been a while since he wanted to talk to anyone, really.

 

His door opens slowly, Julia peeks her head in first before slipping in. “Hey,” she says, holding a cup of water like a white flag and on her cupped hand there are two little white pills. “Painkiller time. How are you feeling?”

 

A standard question that begs for a standard answer. “Fine,” he shrugs.

 

“Margo is busy at the library and Penny is busy at, well,  _ the  _ Library,” she explains as if she needs a legitimate reason to be there, as if Eliot might kick her out otherwise. 

 

Julia hands him the pills and the water.

 

“So you’re on nurse duty,” Eliot surmises, nodding sagely, then swallowing down the Vicodin like a shot and wishing it would leave him half as numb. “There, you can report back to Margo now. Tell her I took my medicine like a good boy.”

 

The look she gives him is not one of the pitiful, understanding ones, or the confused, accusing ones. It’s clear and dissecting, like she’s peeling away his patchwork, fragile armor he had hurriedly built up after leaving the hospital. “Eliot,” Julia sighs. 

 

_ “Julia,”  _ he counters.

 

Her sigh is heavier now, and she closes the door to Eliot’s bedroom, taking a seat beside Eliot, on Eliot’s bed, without asking for permission. She’s a warm weight beside him and the dip of the mattress to accommodate another body is painfully familiar, but Eliot still feels terribly cold. 

 

“I know you loved him,” she says, staring at the wall opposite them, legs crossed at the ankle. “And I know you’re wondering why I’m here. So, that’s why.”

 

Eliot refuses to look at her, refuses to give away more than she already pieced on her own. He means to be brave, but it’s so much harder when he can’t even remember how to be a full-fledged functional human being anymore. Time is an illusion, like he said two lifetimes ago, nevertheless, he thinks he might need more of it. “Shouldn’t you be consoling the actual widow instead? You know, short, blond, and pretty?”

 

“Alice is,” Julia searches for words, pulling a complicated face. It’s a journey to watch, half-amusing, really, so he gives in and turns to gaze at her, until she settles into something almost diplomatic. “Diving into work. With the Library.  _ And Kady.  _ However that’s gonna work,” she adds, quieter, then shakes her head. “She’ll be fine.”

 

“So will I,” he tells her honestly. Or, he hopes it’s honest. He would like to be okay again, someday, maybe. It feels helplessly impossible now, but it’s a nice dream, like Fillory– like a rundown cottage in the forest with a garden of peaches and plums and a mosaic to finish, like Quentin, like being in love, like being  _ happy.  _ Then, something occurs to him.  _ I know you loved him,  _ she had said, and Eliot remembers he’s not the only one who did, who  _ does.  _ “What about you, Julia?”

 

“I know,” she smiles sadly, patting his knee, and her voice is wobbly and brittle and sounds cracked as Eliot feels. “I’ll be fine, too. It’s just– I still miss him so much.”

 

A choked out sob breaks through her clenched jaw, and Julia grips his arm with claw-like fingers, nails digging into his skin through his shirt. Eliot feels oddly empty, watching her overflow like this, as if all the  _ too much–  _ ness that had been weighing him down lately had been drained, taking the stuffing out of him as well. “Do you ever,” he pauses, swallowing thickly his own sob and closing his eyes briefly to steady himself, starts again. “Sometimes, I find myself looking at the door–”

 

“Expecting him to come home?” Julia guesses, wiping a tear track with the sleeves of her coat. “It’s like I’m still waiting for him to just, I don’t know. Show up here, awkwardly apologizing for making us worry and ready to drag us into another quest.”

 

“With his ridiculous little smile,” Eliot half-smiles himself, imagining the scene so clearly on his mind like a memory or a dream. “And tripping over the new rug in the living room.”

 

Julia hiccups a laugh and rests her head on his shoulder, shifting so she’s curled around him more comfortably. They had never been very close, but once upon a time, Eliot had offered her a hand to bring her out of her downward spiral and Julia had the same kind of Monster-flavored guest on her body not too long ago. It’s enough of a bridge to share this loneliness between them– Quentin left a differently shaped void in both of them, but when Julia asks if Q ever told him about  _ that time when we tried to skip class and ended up trapped in the school’s kitchen,  _ and Eliot repays her with  _ did he ever tell you about the time when he accidentally saved a talking cow–  _ it feels a tiny bit less empty.

 

*

 

After that afternoon, Julia turns up in the cottage enough times that Eliot now is privy to an assortment of sort-of secrets that he’s not sure what to do with. He now knows Alice and Kady are working with the Library, capital L, allegedly ex-fascist organization, and the situation between the Hedges is not looking so good. He is not to talk about that too much, it’s all very delicate. Julia can do  _ some  _ magic, but not all kinds and it’s just as screwed up as the rest of magic around the world. He is also not to talk about that, see, Penny 23 is the only other who knows. 

 

Eliot, for some reason, finds that keeping these secrets is easier than he thought it would be, but he figures he’s got a lot of empty space within himself to hide them in.

 

And it’s not like they are actual secrets. They’re just sort of secrets, so if Margo hears bits and pieces of them,  _ definitely  _ not enough for her to figure out the big picture, only for her to send him odd looks, half concerned, half confused, before shaking her head and kissing his cheek, it’s okay.

 

It becomes almost a routine and Eliot finds a calming blanket on that. He knows what to expect and he feels less like he’s drifting at sea, no land in sight. There’s peace in habit and it’s during one of her visits that he finds hope too.

 

“Eliot,” she says, dragging him upstairs and closing the door behind them. Her eyes are alight with a wild gleam and Eliot is forcefully reminded that she used to be a goddess. “I think–  _ I have an idea.” _

 

She doesn’t have to elaborate further for him to understand the fine writing in between the lines.  _ About Quentin, on how to fix this, to bring him back.  _

 

His own heart kicks up the dust and cobwebs to drum in his ribcage as he takes in a ragged breath. “Tell me,” he orders, pulling the last shreds of himself together.

 

“Back when we were looking for the keys, Josh and I, we found one of them in timeline 23, right?”

 

“Yes, no need for the recap, I was there for the first time,” he waves her off, impatiently gesturing her to hurry up and get to the point.

 

Julia nods, grinning. “Yeah, so. Quentin had,” she hesitates so briefly, stumbling over the word nearly imperceptibly, “died there too.  _ But Alice23 brought him back.” _

 

It takes a moment for what she’s saying sink in. Quentin dies in the other timelines, that was a given, they  _ all  _ do, Penny23 and Marina23 are proof, and Eliot had heard Julia and Josh recounting their adventure at the time in all of its creepy glory. But for the first time since the keys, since the Monster,  _ since,  _ he shifts the emphasis from the key and the Beast to– 

 

_ Alice23 brought him back.  _

 

“You can’t tell Penny,” is the first thing he says, because one of the sort-of secrets is that Julia and Penny23 are having a  _ thing  _ and Eliot won’t have her little love affair stop them from  _ saving Quentin.  _

 

“I know,” Julia nods back, decided and giddy and spilling her relieved excitement all over the place. She pulls him into a hug and wraps her arms around his torso, burying her face on his chest. It reminds him a bit of Margo, in the early days after the hospital. “We’re going to get him back–  _ Eliot, we’re gonna get him back.” _

 

Something warm and light and syrupy bubbles up on his chest, filling in the blank spots around his lungs, under his ribcage– with a start, Eliot realizes what it is.  _ Hope.  _ Because this plan is absolutely crazy and desperate and insanely dangerous,  _ but it’s a plan.  _

 

It’s enough.

 

“We will, darling,” he whispers into her hair, his tears falling unprompted. It’s an unspoken decision that this will be another one of their sort of secrets, that they need to hash out a few more details beyond  _ it’s our only idea  _ before telling people. They don’t need their friends throwing an intervention, gently guiding them away from what they would call stupid, grief-induced plans.

 

Sure, Eliot will be the first to admit it might be a terrible, insane plan that did not work all that well in the 23rd timeline, but in his experiences, it’s exactly the kind of Hail Mary they’ve pulled off over the years. 

 

*

 

“Wanna run that by me again?” Margo asks, eyebrows raised impressively high as she looks between Eliot and Julia. Then, her forehead creases in that worried frown of hers, “you two are up to something.”

 

“Of course not, Bambi,” Eliot reassures her, slipping an arm around her shoulders and leading her towards the cottage front door. “I’m merely helping our cause. Julia is now the closest thing to a Fillory nerd we have,” he tells her in a stage-whisper, and a piece of his heart falls to the floor but he barely notices it. None of it will matter once Quentin is back. “Go look in the library. We will get Julia’s books in her old apartment. The doctor said fresh air might do me some good, anyway.”

 

Margo pins him with a suspicious look, glancing behind his shoulder to narrow her eyes at Julia. Then, her shoulders sag and she sighs. “You know what, fine. You’re out of bed, you showered, and now you’re back to scheming– that’s progress, baby,” she smiles fleetingly, relieved beyond belief, before steeling herself and pointing a finger in their general direction. “But whatever this is, better not come bite us in the ass, hear me?” To Julia, she adds, “you better return him in pristine condition, or I’ll fuck you up, alright? Sorrow and Sorrow are still in my bedroom and they work just fine to cut a bitch,” she exhales, adjusts her clothes, “and please, make sure he eats something.”

 

With that, Margo is gone, hurrying through the campus to get to the library.

 

“Well, she’s still terrifying,” Julia comments, lips quirking up amusedly.

 

“Yes, the axes do suit her, don’t you think?” Eliot can hear himself softening as he watches Margo disappear in the crowd of students.  _ God,  _ he had missed her. A part of him feels guilty for keeping this from her, but Eliot knows he wouldn’t have been able to bear if she had looked at him again with wide eyes brimming with teary understanding that had felt so much like pity. He’ll tell her as soon as they get solid proof it can be done. “What shall we tell your Penny, when he comes in?”

 

Julia scrunches up her nose. “He’s not my Penny,” and  _ oh, the lady doth protests too much?  _ “But I told him we needed to talk with Alice about the Fillory situation.”

 

A sting of pain echoes on his chest as Eliot thinks of Fen, alone and dethroned, but he can only help one dead friend at a time. After they get Quentin back, after the world is once again right in its axis, then they will save Fen and Josh and Fillory.  _ Would you look at that, Q, another noble quest for you to tag along. _

 

“Sounds mildly believable,” he graciously allows, just in time for Penny23 to pop into existence in the middle of the living room without warning. “Why, do make yourself at home.”

 

Penny ignores Eliot, making a beeline to Julia, fussing over her in a way that Eliot has to look away; it reminds him a bit too much of a time when he had been the one searching for his little nerd and checking him over for any injuries. Perhaps, staying in Brakebills might have been a mistake.  _ Perhaps,  _ Margo was right, a place with fewer memories would have been preferable.

 

“Eliot?”

 

Julia’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts and both she and Penny are looking at him like it was not the first time she had called his name. Oh well. Spacing out is hardly the worst of his attitude lately. “Are we finally getting a move on?”

 

“Yeah,” Penny drawls, studying him for a drawn-out minute and sounding like he’s been talking about Eliot. With Margo, most likely, and Julia, although he expects the latter to have been more skittish about the topic recently. “Are you sure you’re alright, man? I mean, the whole possession thing must take a toll, right? And with–”

 

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” Eliot cuts him off before Penny could say something ridiculous like– something Penny hasn’t the slightest idea of what he’s talking about. “Now, if you would be so kind?”

 

He raises one eyebrow, waiting for Penny to take Julia’s hand and offer him the other, one last warning look sent his way, and then the world blurs as they travel to the Library and hope talking with Alice,  _ their  _ Alice, isn’t a mistake.

 

*

 

The Library is under renovations.

 

It should not come as such a surprise, Eliot thinks in hindsight. With both Alice and Kady in charge of things, some fundamental changes were bound to come. Though he’ll admit he had expected them to be more philosophical than literal, he won’t complain about the new color palette.

 

Grey  _ is  _ terribly dull.

 

_ “Are you insane?”  _ Alice hisses, her glasses glinting off the artificial light, and she looks beautifully sad. Melancholy has always suited her, Eliot supposes, even in the early days of their little ragtag family. “Look, I miss him too, you know I do, but this is too crazy, even for us.”

 

She pushes away from the desk, her new Head Librarian desk on her new Head Librarian office– no, sorry.  _ Co- _ Head Librarian. Julia trades a warning look with Eliot, her patented  _ don’t be a dick  _ look, and steps closer to Alice approaching her like she’s an injured animal. “I know how it sounds,” Julia begins, choosing her words carefully. “But think about it. We already know what went wrong in the 23rd timeline. We can do it right this time,  _ here.” _

 

Her arms are wrapped around herself like Alice needs to physically shield herself from this conversation. She shakes her head several times, purses her lips. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?”

 

“Help us save Quentin?” Eliot can’t help prodding. It’s not fair, he knows, but it still irks him that she’s not jumping at the chance to get him back.

 

“You  _ know  _ it’s not that easy,” Alice glares, softening after barely a minute. Her grief seems to sharpen and dust off her edges in random intervals, and ever since the bonfire, what had once driven a wedge between them now makes her reach for Eliot with a shared sense of understanding. “You can’t just go to the Underworld branch and bring a soul back– and even if you could,  _ you,”  _ she points to Julia, “told us he became the Beast when I– when that Alice did it. Can you imagine what that would mean with magic the way it is now?”

 

“Then let’s make sure we bring his shade back,” he shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

“Stop pretending it’s easy!” She finally snaps, and Julia quickly slips between them, hands in front of her chest, but Eliot isn’t done.

 

This is their best shot at saving Quentin and they already took a big leap of faith in telling Alice about it. He hasn’t even told  _ Margo.  _ “Listen,” he says, walking around Julia to place his hands on Alice’s shoulders. “When you were a niffin,” at that, her eyes widen and she tries to move away, so Eliot holds her there tighter.  _ “When you were a niffin,  _ he stopped at nothing to bring you back whether you wanted to or not. When Julia was shadeless, he did his best to help her and never gave up on her, no matter what. And when the Monster possessed me,” he trails off. They all know how  _ that  _ turned out.

 

“So who cares if it’s not easy,” Julia joins him, giving him a sympathetic look, “it’s  _ Q.  _ We can’t give up on him now.”

 

Alice purses her lips, but something about the way she sighs, deflating under his hands, tells Eliot she’s giving in. “Even if we did bring his soul back,” she caves, averting her gaze and adjusting her glasses, “he would still need a body.”

 

“A golem?” Eliot suggests. It’s not a very good solution, but he knows from first-hand experience that you can’t feel the difference. And it certainly beats death. Alice, though, twitches in that awkward way of hers. “Unless you have a better idea?”

 

“When Penny died,” she confesses, “I tried to make him a new body. With _ Osseus Confervium.” _

 

“Bone-knitting?” Julia’s eyebrows rise.

 

“Yes,” Alice nods earnestly, apparently warming up to the idea. “It’s difficult, but you said it yourself–  _ who cares, it’s Q.  _ And with magic overflowing like this, it’s probably the best time to do it.”

 

Eliot smiles something so close to a smile, he even surprises himself. “So it’s settled then,” he says, uncharacteristically optimistic, “all we have to do is make a new body and break Q out of the Underworld. Sounds like a regular Wednesday, no?”

 

*

 

As it turns out, bone-knitting is even harder than what they had expected, even after Alice had admitted failing to make Penny a body. It’s a long, drawn-out process and they take turns working the spell, unwilling to stop the process.

 

“You know,” Margo says, her fingers weaving smoothly over the ever-growing skeleton. Never let it be said this spell isn’t creepy as fuck. “When I said you should get a hobby, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

 

Eliot huffs a laugh, his brow still furrowed in concentration, but he has to admit relief is there too because he hears the  _ it’s okay, I get it,  _ in between her words. And she really does, especially now with Josh long gone in Fillory, he supposes. “Then what  _ did  _ you have in mind, Bambi? Golf? Jogging? Book club, perhaps?”

 

_ Thank you,  _ he hopes she hears.

 

The brilliant smile she gives him, relieved and hopeful, tells him she did. Margo snorts, and it feels almost like back to normal. “Like half of our problems didn’t come from those goddamn books.”

 

*

 

_ Is this brave enough already, Q? _

 

*

 

It takes them two weeks to get the body ready and it takes Eliot until the body bag is zipped all the way up for him to breathe again. Seeing Quentin like that, so still and unmoving– a shudder wracks his body. It’s disturbing and  _ wrong  _ and Eliot can’t understand how Alice and Julia can pick it up without throwing up on the carpet. 

 

No longer depending on modern medicine, he takes a swing from his flask, lets the alcohol soothe the shaking of his fingers. 

 

“Let the record show, I think this is shitty ass plan,” Penny23 scowls from where he’s leaning against the wall of the cottage. For the last two weeks, he had refused to help, needlessly reminding them of what happened in his timeline as if they didn’t already know. As if Julia hadn’t already told every little detail about the pathetic state Alice23 had been, how it all went to shit. They all know the risks. 

 

More importantly, they all know Quentin. 

 

“Yeah, we heard you the first twenty times,” Margo glares; the shadows under her eyes, the ones so deep and pronounced her makeup can’t quite cover, betray her worry, though.

 

“I’m just saying,” he continues, fiddling jittery with the bracelets on his wrist. “If this goes sideways– like it probably will– I’m killing the motherfucker before he can go all psycho this time.”

 

Before Eliot could do anything, Margo takes his hand, holding it tight enough to hurt, to pin him in place.  _ It’s not worth it,  _ she means.

 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Kady do the same with Alice and  _ oh, okay, interesting. _

 

“Can we just go?” Julia asks, sounding hurt and weary. Her hands shake as she drags them across her face. “The sooner we do this, the better our odds.”

 

Penny steps away, his reluctance reminding everyone that he’s only doing this because Julia is asking, because Julia had been torn apart by– she’s been hurting as much as Eliot, as much as Alice. He holds out his hand to her and Julia reaches for Eliot and Margo while Alice grabs Penny’s other hand, taking Kady with her. Quentin’s new body is a heavy weight between them.

 

Traveling to the Library makes his stomach churn as always and everyone gasps, blinking to get their bearings inside Kady and Alice’s brand new office. “Okay,” Kady recovers first, marching to her desk to root inside her drawer. “Everyone knows the plan?”

 

“You and blondie over here keep the Librarians from reading our books out there while these two Orpheus the shit out this,” Margo’s summary is a pretty accurate one and her satisfied smirk as she caresses her axes is so  _ Margo,  _ a rush of fondness washes over Eliot. “I and Mr.Sunshine will keep guard, just in case.”

 

Kady produces two small bottles from her drawer, throwing them to Eliot and Julia, the bright red liquid sloshing inside. She nods at them, giving Alice a meaningful look before slipping out the door. “Right. The potion will stop your hearts and all brain activity for exactly an hour. Your bodies will be in stasis until it kickstarts again,” Alice explains, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear, “it should give you enough time to look for him in the Underworld, but you  _ have  _ to be back in the elevator before time runs out or you’ll be stuck out of your bodies  _ forever. _ ”

 

He trades a look with Julia. She nods. “Well, this is encouraging and all,” he says, exhaling heavily, “but we’ll be fine.”

 

Alice hesitates, biting her lip. “I would go with you guys, but,” she trails off, looking helplessly at the door.

 

“You and Kady are our best shot at keeping them in the dark,” Julia finishes, smiling knowingly, “we know.”

 

The door closes quietly behind her as Alice hurries out of the room.

 

And with that, there’s no more delaying it. 

 

It’s now or never.

 

Eliot turns to Margo, finds her already watching him with worried eyes in a display of vulnerability she rarely ever shows, much less in front of other people like this. Although, Julia and Penny do seem to be completely lost in each other. “Hey, don’t cock out on me now,” he says softly, brushing her hair out of her eyes, “it’ll be fine. We’ll be back home before you notice, making that martini you love and most likely hearing about some other fastly approaching apocalypse.”

 

She slaps his shoulder, laughing quietly and involuntarily. “Don’t go around stealing my lines. Asshole.” She pokes his chest, trying to go for a threatening expression. “And you’d better make it back, hear me? We didn’t just get you back for you to disappear on me again, alright?”

 

“Of course,” he does his best to smile back, gently cradling her face to press a kiss to her forehead. “See you in an hour, Bambi.”

 

At his left, Julia moves, uncorking her bottle, and Eliot does the same. They knock it back like a shot and between a blink and the next, the world stays dark.

 

*

 

Dull, cheerful elevator music is playing when Eliot opens his eyes again and it takes him a second to recognize that he is, in fact, in an elevator. Another second, and Julia blinks beside him. “Fuck,” he breathes, “we’re dead.”

 

“Still hate this song,” she mutters, rolling her shoulders and readying herself into a fighting stance, and Eliot wonders if he should do the same. Between the two of them, he’s the one with reliable magic, after all. Not  _ battle  _ magic, but still.

 

With a loud  _ ding!  _ the doors slide open and– 

 

_ “Hey, welcome to the–  _ oh, thank fuck.”

 

“Penny?” Eliot stops short, lowering his hands, and beside him, he sees Julia do the same. “Penny 40, I assume?” Then, quieter, he whispers to Julia, “should we have made him a body too?”

 

“I don’t know,” she whispers back, eyes glued to Penny in front of them, “is this a double rescue now?”

 

Penny, in true Penny form, rolls his eyes, stepping aside to impatiently motion them out of the elevator and into a shockingly white room. “Calm down, you guys don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine down here,” he hands them two glasses of what turns out to be an also shockingly good Scotch. “You’re here for Quentin, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Julia nods, eyeing his suit and tie suspiciously, “are you going to try and stop us?”

 

It brings a burst of laugh out of Penny. “God, no.  _ Please,  _ take him with you,” he shakes his head, “do you have any idea how much trouble he’s causing here?”

 

And  _ that  _ brings an almost-smile out of Eliot, because  _ yes, that does sound like him.  _ “Please, do tell.”

 

“Since I left him at the station, he escaped security  _ at least  _ ten times,” Penny does tell them, “he refuses to board the train and move on, and since dead people don’t have books, he’s getting real good at evading security.”

 

Julia grins. “That’s Q,” she bites her lip, visibly relieved they won’t have to convince him to come with them.  _ Or worse,  _ Eliot realizes. “So you’re gonna help us?”

 

“I could get in trouble for this,” Penny admits, looking around as if he’s afraid librarians might step out of non-existent shadows, “but fuck it, follow me.”

 

The Underworld branch is weird, Eliot decides as soon as they go through a door that definitely had not been there before and end up in what looks like a perfectly ordinary parking lot, except for the inexplicable door in the middle of it. “That’s where he first went through,” he explains, handing them two brightly colored in blue metro cards, “this is as far as I can go, but I’ll keep the portal open for as long as I can while you look for him.”

 

“Thank you,” Eliot says sincerely, tilts his head, “you know, you are surprisingly nicer here. Is it a death thing?”

 

Penny laughs, shaking his head. “Why does everyone say that?” He claps Eliot in the back, makes a shooing motion, “yeah, it’s a death thing. Now go, before someone realizes we’re not supposed to be here.”

 

Once again, they go out of the blue and into the dark.

 

*

 

The door leads them into a metro station, busy bustling with people. They pass through them in a daze, and Eliot watches them enter fill in the wagons, not once looking back. A few seem to be sniffling, others openly crying, but most walk calmly away, letting the train carry them through the dark tunnels.

 

“It certainly smells like a subway,” Eliot comments, scanning their surrounds. Above, robotic voice filters through the speakers, announcing another train would be leaving the station shortly. “Points for realism, I suppose. Although, I could really do without the piss.”

 

Julia purses her lips, her fingers curling around Eliot’s bony wrist with white knuckles. “Don’t get lost,” she warns, frowning soberly at the crowds stumbling over them. “There’s something off about these people and it’ll be hard enough to find one person here.”

 

Eliot blanches. From what he can tell this place stretches for  _ miles  _ in both directions, with trains coming and going non stop and no ending in sight. There could be hundreds,  _ thousands  _ of souls here if this is where everyone goes when they die. And if Quentin is already hiding, it’ll be impossible to find him in less than half an hour.

 

Unless–

 

“Maybe  _ we  _ don’t have to find him,” he smirks, hope igniting in a flickering flame on his chest.

 

Following his gaze, Julia looks up at the sound system hooked on the ceiling. She grins. “Maybe  _ he  _ can find  _ us.” _

 

He offers her his arm with a flourish. “Shall we follow the wiring?”

 

“Yes,” she links their arms, tugging him forward, “let’s.”

 

*

 

For once in their godforsaken lives, things go slightly according to plan and the small broadcasting cabin is blessedly empty. The security is most likely still chasing after Quentin, then. Or, Eliot hopes they are, anything else could mean a scenario he doesn’t want to think of.

 

They didn’t come all the way here just to drown a few feet from the shore.

 

“Do you think this will work?” Julia asks, looking up from where she’s ripping cords and cables and replugging them in different exits. It looks random to Eliot, who has no idea where to even start, his degree has never been anywhere near technology, but he hopes she knows what she’s doing and the lost little shadow on her eyes is simply a case of the  _ what if _ s.  _ What if Quentin is gone? What if he doesn’t hear us? What if it’s too late? What if he doesn’t want to come back?  _ “Hey, try saying something on that,” she points at the microphone closest to him.

 

“It will work,” he reassures her, sounding way more confident than he truly feels, but considering anything else would render Eliot unable to carry on this rescue. He has to believe it’ll work or the weight of this world will be too crushing otherwise. “Hello? Good night– or good morning, I can’t tell, it doesn’t matter– listeners, this is your host for the duration of my stay in this truly dreadful place,” the speakers screech with static in the beginning, distorting his voice, but after Julia changes yet another bright blue wire, it runs smoothly, echoing around the station. 

 

She crowds into his space, pushing him aside none too gently to hog the mic.  _ “Q,  _ if you’re listening,” Julia grips the receiver tightly, her tone tinged with a desperation she had been previously keeping at bay, “we’re here, just follow the wires–  _ we have a plan, we’re bringing you back, Q.” _

 

Since this isn’t a cell phone, there’s no reply beyond a few static hissing, and in the silence that follows, Eliot can hear his own heart drumming up a circus in his chest. “Q,” he says, hesitating briefly and clearing his throat. “You have to hurry, we don’t have long now,” the watch on his wrist ticks on mercilessly, counting down to their deadline. “And I was hoping to get another fifty years with you.”

 

Julia squeezes his shoulders, unplugging the microphone and gently setting it aside. “Now we wait,” she says quietly, “he’ll find us.”

 

“Do you know,” Eliot can’t help asking, not when they're so close to making or breaking it, not when she’s politely averting her gaze from the way his eyes are shining with unshed tears. “Do you think he knew?”

 

_ Did he die thinking I didn’t love him back? _

 

“I– he wondered. I think he didn’t  _ not  _ know,” Julia answers hesitantly.

 

The answer is yes, then.

 

They fall silent after that, tension and anxiety humming in the air like a tightrope ready to snap, and if Quentin doesn’t make it to them in the next fifteen minutes, there won’t be time to go back to the elevator in time, and Margo would  _ kill  _ him if Eliot gets lost outside his body and it’s not fair of him to make her worry like this  _ again,  _ not after all she went through in the past year and all she sacrificed to get him back.

 

Eliot wants more than anything to stay and wait forever if that’s what it takes, but he owes it to Margo to survive at the very least.

 

“Five minutes,” warns Julia, glancing at her own watch. 

 

Neither of them moves.

 

Then–

 

The door bursts open, slamming hard into the wall, and Quentin dashes inside, hurriedly locking it behind him, and– 

 

Quentin leans against the metal door, panting. His black hoodie stands out in stark contrast with the light blue paint– 

 

Quentin looks up, his eyes– impossibly dark, melted chocolate eyes– find Eliot and he  _ smiles–  _ beautiful, and shy, and happy, and  _ heart-stopping–  _ and Eliot stops breathing, stops thinking,  _ stops–  _

 

Quentin  _ smiles,  _ says, “ _ hey.” _

 

_ “Hey, yourself,”  _ someone with Eliot’s voice speaks, except it can’t be Eliot because Eliot’s mind is still in a loop– 

 

Quentin, Quentin,  _ Quentin– _

 

_ “Q,”  _ is all Julia gasps before flinging herself at Quentin, clinging to him as if she’s afraid he might disappear if she lets go even an inch, as if her life depends on it, as if the world is ending and this is all there is. 

 

In the meantime, Eliot looks away and tries to remember how to breathe.

 

She finally pulls away and she’s crying, but that’s fine, Quentin is crying too, and Quentin is still ridiculously mesmerizing, even if his hair is shorter now, too short for him to hide behind it, and the artificial lights are framing his silhouette in a way that reminds Eliot of a priest preaching about angels a long time ago in a dusty town surrounded by corn fields, and this time Eliot agrees– it’s all terrifyingly beautiful.

 

“Hey,” Quentin says again, takes a step closer, pauses. His hands twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for Eliot but isn’t sure if he’s allowed and Eliot wants to say he’ll give Quentin whatever he asks for, it’s all his already anyway, it always has been.

 

So instead, he thinks  _ show, don’t tell,  _ and crosses the space left between them and draws him in a hug, marveling at how easily Quentin fits against him. They curve around each other– Quentin buries his face on Eliot’s neck and Eliot cries quietly into Quentin’s hair, and arms wrap around waists with a familiarity that comes from fifty years of muscle memory. “It’s really you,” Quentin murmurs, half in awe, half in disbelief, and entirely in longing. “I missed you so much, El.”

 

“No more than I have missed you,” Eliot whispers back, feeling for the first time like his chest isn’t collapsing into itself, like he’s one breath away from toppling down like a house of cards. “Q,” he says helplessly,  _ “Q.” _

 

The letter falls heavily from his lips, packed with so many more words, it dissipates in the air like cigarette smoke, the kind that he could shape into anything at all– a dragon, a ship, a heart, a cottage in the woods, a little boy laughing in the backyard, two people growing old. 

 

Julia chokes on a laugh, hand flying to her mouth. “Sorry guys,” she blinks back tears, wiping her cheek, “we gotta go.”

 

Quentin pulls away, and takes Eliot’s hand. “I’m ready,” he says, sounding like means it, and smiles, “lead the way, Jules.”

 

*

 

The walk back to Penny is a giant blank space in Eliot’s memory. 

 

He’s too distracted with how solid, how warm, how  _ alive  _ Quentin feels to pay attention while Julia explains their plan. Everything feels like a dream and Eliot is too scared to pinch himself to check, isn’t sure he wants to know the truth, because does it even matter if it feels this real?

 

They might have been chased by security, they might have run for their lives, Eliot might have thrown someone in the rails and Julia might have cracked someone’s skull against a light blue concrete wall, Penny might have said something about  _ thank fuck, you little shit, do you know how much of a pain you’ve been?  _ to Quentin, but it all happens from a distance– for a second, Eliot almost worries he’s slipping back to the Happy Place, but Quentin’s hand is still warm and sweaty and clinging desperately to Eliot’s to the point of his fingernails breaking skin in tiny half-moon shapes, so it must still be Eliot at the wheel.

 

It’s only when the elevator’s doors are sliding closed and the godawful song starts chiming again that it dawns on him.

 

_ They did it. _

 

“We did it,” Julia exhales, breathlessly and giddy, hugging Quentin again, and they’re both laughing and jumping together in a mess of limbs. “Q,  _ we did it!” _

 

Eliot lets them celebrate with an amused half smile, an overwhelming wave of fondness rushing unbridled inside his ribcage.

 

Idly, he notices Quentin has let go of his hand. Then, the world goes dark and the music abruptly cuts out– 

 

– and Eliot sits up, gasping for air, heaving in a breath like a man drowning at sea.

 

“Oh, thank god,” Margo gathers him in her arms, and from behind her shoulder, he sees that Julia is already on her feet, leaning heavily against her Penny, and  _ oh,  _ Quentin is holding Alice like a lifeline, or maybe Alice is holding Quentin, it’s hard to tell with how entwined they are, but  _ yes, that checks.  _ Margo draws back to glare at him, shakily fussing over his hair. “Always had to make a fucking entrance, didn’t you?”

 

“I thought you appreciated being fashionably late,” he teases, hoping to balance himself in their usual banter.  _ I’m here, I’m alright,  _ he means. 

 

“I’d appreciate you not giving me a heart attack every other week,” she shoots back, helping him up gently, and her hand stays firmly at his back even after his knees no longer threaten to give out. 

 

“Just to check,” Eliot calls out, waiting until Quentin disentangle himself from Alice and look back at him. “Before Penny 23 here decides to undo all of our hard work, do you happen to feel any murderous urge? An irrational liking to moths?”

 

Quentin scrunches up his nose in his adorable puppy way, and Eliot’s traitorous heart skips a beat obediently in response. “No? I– should I? I mean, I’m hungry, I could definitely eat, but– not moths?”

 

It works to loosen up the room, as if the building itself had been holding its breath and now it’s suddenly let go. Julia and Alice chuckle softly, wetly, and even Penny rolls his eyes, looking less like he might be hiding a knife behind his back.

 

“Hey,” Quentin continues, shaking off his confusion to beam down at his hands, “my arm is not made of wood anymore–  _ nice.” _

 

*

 

In the days that follow, not a lot happens. 

 

Except for a lot of serious conversations, it seems.

 

Having Quentin dying on them,  _ sacrificing himself like a goddamn martyr, like he never heard of live to fight another day,  _ may have kicked them all with a sort of urgency to resolve their unfinished business.

 

Because their group of sort-of patchwork family has never been particularly good at talking things out but have always excelled at sneaking around, Eliot never quite catches these talks, only glimpses.

 

He sees Quentin helping Margo clean her axes one afternoon, talking in low voices, but their eyes are suspiciously shiny and Quentin’s hands shake as he wipes a cloth over an already pristine patch of iron.

 

There’s a morning, Eliot wakes up to the smell of eggs and bacon and when he enters Marina’s kitchen, Quentin and Penny are silently having breakfast.

 

That same night, Julia asks Quentin to teach her a card trick, but when Eliot walks past her bedroom later before going to sleep himself, the sounding of crying is unmistakable. He doesn’t know which one of them is sobbing, but the next day, they trade a hopeful smile over coffee, the  _ it really is going to be okay  _ kind.

 

Then, it’s suddenly Eliot’s turn.

 

“We’re ordering pizza,” he says, knocking on the open door and leaning against it. Quentin looks up from where he’s sprawled on the bed, drops his phone on his chest. “I have been tasked to find out which topping you would like. Please,” he holds up a hand, “before you decide, do take into consideration that there  _ is  _ a wrong answer.”

 

“Are you threatening to kick me out of  _ Marina’s  _ flat if I ask for pineapple on  _ my _ pizza?” Quentin snorts, raising one eyebrow.

 

“It’s technically Kady’s apartment now, she already paid this month’s rent to the Babayaga downstairs,” Eliot informs him mildly. “But yes, absolutely.”

 

“You know,” he sits up properly, his phone falling to the side and nearly to the floor. The expression on Quentin’s face is so softly amused, Eliot’s chest aches. “That would’ve been more threatening if you hadn’t just broken into the Underworld to rescue me.”

 

Eliot finds that sighing theatrically is better than overthink the sentence in his head.  _ Be brave,  _ he thinks. Be brave, even if it’s scary, even if it hurts,  _ be brave, you promised.  _ “You got me. I love you, but that still doesn’t mean I’ll allow that crime against humanity inside this apartment.”

 

A pin-dropping silence blankets the room. Quentin’s eyes are wide and dark, and if the curtains had been open, Eliot is sure the whole night sky could have reflected off them. “Did you just– I mean–”

 

“Q,” Eliot deflates, ignoring the urge to flee from this, from the chance– from the  _ possibility–  _ and sits at the edge of the bed, carefully keeping a good distance between them. Quentin could still cross it, could still cover Eliot’s hand in the mattress with his own if he wanted. He doesn’t, though, and Eliot tries not to be disappointed. “I love you. I thought– I  _ hoped  _ you knew by now, but in case you don’t, there.  _ I love you.” _

 

“But, I mean,” he blinks, forehead creasing in his confusion and he runs a hand through his hair, just like old times. “That day, in the throne room–”

 

“I was scared,” Eliot admits, the words rushing out of him like a bursting balloon, “and I thought not knowing was better than having and then losing.”

 

Quentin pauses. “That sounds familiar– is that a poem?”

 

“Sort of, it kind of goes the other way around.”

 

“Sorry, that doesn’t matter,” Quentin shakes his head as if he could physically disperse his thoughts. They tend to get tangled in his head, Eliot had noticed. “I– so when you said– back when you broke out of the monster for a minute, and then at the metro station– you really meant it?”

 

“Yes,” he simply says, “but I’m not expecting anything from you, don’t worry your pretty little head. I just– I’m trying this new thing, being  _ brave,  _ so I promised myself I would tell you. You deserve to know the whole truth.”

 

_ You deserve to have the chance to choose,  _ he doesn’t say.

 

“Eliot,” Quentin breathes, and for a second it looks like he’s leaning forward, but there’s a knock on the door and it startles them even further apart.

 

It’s Penny, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world except here. “Hey, huh,” he clears his throat, “Margo’s asking what you guys want? She’s on the phone with the pizza place and, well. We need an answer.”

 

“I’m fine with anything, thanks,” Quentin stumbles out his reply, still looking caught like a deer in headlights. 

 

So Eliot shoves his feelings into the back of his mind and pulls himself together, getting to his feet. “I should go relay the message,” he says, smoothing out his clothes, “someone should stop her from scaring away the delivery guy.”

 

He forces himself to leave the run in a sedated pace, and he never looks back.

 

*

 

After that, Eliot pours himself into helping Margo find her way back to her Fillory, tearing through books like he never did in his time at Brakebills. They raid Marina’s library and camp out on her living room, and only when it’s late at night, when everyone else is asleep, when it’s only him and Margo and the low light from the candles– only then he lets her hug him and spills the aching sadness that had pooled where his heart used to be.

 

To be honest, it’s neither better nor worse. If anything, the only change is that he sees even less of Alice. She leaves them for the Library more often than not, Kady defiantly in tow, so Eliot figures she knows.

 

And Quentin– he avoids Eliot, or perhaps Eliot avoids Quentin, or they avoid each other, or there’s no avoiding, there’s only Eliot losing himself in his research and Quentin taking his time to process things. Either way, it takes him three days and two hours before he seeks Eliot out.

 

“Can we talk?” Quentin asks, fidgeting in the threshold of Marina’s library, and Margo kicks Eliot  _ hard  _ under the desk.

 

So he nods, wincing at how loud his chair screeches when he pushes it back, away from the table. 

 

“Look,” he says, closing the door to his room beside them. Quentin looks decided, serious, nervous. “A lot of shit happened since the last time I saw you. I mean,  _ you  _ you, and I– things got kind of twisted at the end, I was in a really bad place, and then in the Mirror World, I thought– I don’t know–  _ wait,  _ hey, did you know I figured out my discipline?” No, Eliot had not known. “Yeah, Mayakovsky told me.  _ Minor Mendings.” _

 

“That’s great, Q,” Eliot smiles honestly, “it really suits you.”

 

Quentin grins back, wide and brilliant before huffing. “Thanks. Anyway, that wasn’t– what I’m trying to say is, dying puts a lot of things in perspective, I guess? No, that’s no right. It’s just, after Penny gave me that metro card and I was suddenly there, at that station, and I was supposed to fucking  _ move on–  _ I realized I didn’t want to. There was so much shit I still wanted to do, that I wanted to say, and I had never even gotten to talk to you after the Monster was gone, and I– all I wanted was to come back, to take it back.”

 

“Yeah? Penny said you caused a lot of trouble down there,” he says slowly, studying Quentin’s face, trying to decipher the look on his eyes. It seemed familiar, but Eliot couldn’t quite place a name. 

 

“Yeah, they really didn’t like that,” Quentin shakes his head, “but it didn’t matter, because I knew– El, I  _ knew  _ you would come for me. Do you know why?”

 

“Why, Q?” Eliot asks, feeling his heart suddenly clawing its way up his throat.

 

“Because if it was the other way around,” he says, smiling, and takes a step closer, then another, and another, until there are only a few inches between them and Eliot can count his lashes, each of the freckles he got from walking in the park with Julia every afternoon since coming back, “that’s what I would do. I guess, what I’m really trying to say, is that  _ I love you too.” _

 

Time stops and the world spins out of control as Eliot lets these words sink in, wondering if this is a dream, if he’s still in the Happy Place– how can it be real?

 

But Quentin is smiling up at him softly and his hands are tugging Eliot down, burying in his hair, and then they’re kissing and it has to be real because none of Eliot’s dreams have ever felt this good.

 

“What about Alice?” Eliot has to ask, pulling away to breathe in oxygen into his aching lungs, and waits to see if his heart is going to be handed back to him battered and bruised in a silver plate.

 

“Broke up a week ago, get on with the program,” is all Quentin laughs, breathlessly against Eliot’s lips, and Eliot is more than happy to swallow the sound and the moan that follows.

 

There’s still so much to do– they have to find a way to save Fen and Josh, and the Library isn’t happy with them for stealing Q back from the Underworld, and magic is still haywire, and the situation with the Hedges is precarious at best, and there’s a lot of shit to talk about, therapy possibly, but. Quentin  _ loves  _ him and Eliot is  _ terrified  _ but there’s strength in numbers and look at all the things they already survived.

 

For tonight, they kiss and it tastes like peaches and plums, and a cottage in the woods, and a golden tile. It tastes like magic and it tastes like stars, and Eliot knows, whatever happens from here on out, they’ll be alright.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey there, if you liked, you can always send me prompts or come scream about the finale on [my tumblr.](https://rad-hoodd.tumblr.com)
> 
> and hey? Stay safe and thanks.


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